


soil soaked through with old blood

by sketchbook henry (bessemerprocess)



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), In Plain Sight
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Multi, Post-Episode: s06e18 Lauren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 10:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14692296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessemerprocess/pseuds/sketchbook%20henry
Summary: Team BAU goes into Witness Protection. It's just as much a cf as you might expect.





	soil soaked through with old blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amadi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amadi/gifts).



> Uhm, hi. Not dead, I promise. Life just got a bit busy. Two plus years of busy. Here I am, cleaning out the WIP folder before I post some stuff I actually wrote this year. I'm probably not actively rejoining fandom life, but I am writing again, so step in the right direction?
> 
> The note on this said I was writing it for Amadi, hi Amadi!
> 
> This was part of the like twenty five post-Lauren AUs I started writing and never finished. I'm not sure where it was going, my notes seem to imply that Team BAU ends up making video games and killing Ian Doyle, as one does. How? Yeah, you got me there, I don't know.

"So, I have a challenge for you today," Stan says as soon as she's off the elevator. When he hands her a cup of coffee, too, Mary Shannon groans. Today is going to suck.

"It's not that bad. It's just a rather large group of witnesses."

"Group?" she asks, already knowing this is going to suck.

"Ten adults, two children."

"Ten? what is this, Big Love? Please tell me that we aren't dealing with religious loonies, Stan."

"First, we don't call them loonies, Mary, and second, no. They're FBI."

"The FBI?" she asks, and takes a long drink of coffee. Maybe she just heard him wrong.

"Yes, the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I'm pretty sure you've met them. The thing is, they're not exactly here of their own free will, they've been ordered into witness protection. So, they get to go in together," Stan explains, and gestures to the conference room full of people in suits.

"And the FBI decided to hate me today, why?"

"Someone over there heard you were good at this."

"Damn my competence."

"Marshall just brought them coffee. They've all had a really bad week, so don't antagonize them. They're better shots than you are," Stan says and then pats her on the back, before walking away with a grin on his face.

Mary walks into the conference room to a dozen sets of staring eyes. Her first thought had been correct: this was going to be a hellish day.

"So," she says. "I'm Marshall Shannon, I'll be in charge of your case."

Usually she doesn't get such immediate focus. People coming into witness protection are usually at the end of string of really bad days, and they're more worried about the people who want them dead than anything she has to say. These people, however, look at her like she's about to brief them on the invasion of Normandy. All except the man in the back who is wrangling a toddler and a little boy: his attention is still on the kids.

Marshall hands out binders, introducing people as he goes. "This is Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi," he says of the man closest to her. Rossi is the oldest of the group and also the most relaxed. His boots, at least, look like they might belong in Albuquerque and not DC. Something the rest of this group fails at miserably.

"Dave will do," he says, shaking her hand. "I think the titles are pretty irrelevant at this point."

"Okay, then. Next up, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, and Emily Prentiss," Marshall says, going down the side of the table. Morgan's entire demeanor screams cop, Reid's says college professor, and Prentiss just looks like she should be under a doctor's care. Not to mention how the rest of the table seems to wince when Marshall says her name.

"Aaron Hotchner," Marshall continues. Hotchner looks almost as bad as Prentiss. He's tense and defensive, and this is the last place he must want to be.

"Will LaMontagne." He's the one interacting with the kids, though Hotchner is keeping an eagle eye out on them all. "And this is Jack and Henry." Mary shoots Marshall the evil eye for not including last names. Bad enough to wade into this shit storm without being able to figure out the group dynamics.

"This is Jennifer Jareau."

"Just call me JJ," she corrects, in a manner that is calculated to put a person at ease. Mary wonders how long she practiced that in the mirror.

"Penelope Garcia," is next up. She's the only one wearing a bright color in the entire room. Even the little boys are in dark polo shirts.

"Kevin Lynch," only has eyes for Garcia.

"And last, but not least, Ashley Seaver," who seems to think she is the least, if the nervousness she's projecting is anything to go by.

Binders distributed, Marshall plops down next to her at the head of the table.

"Let's read through the memorandum of understanding..."

***

"This is stupid. We should be out there hunting Doyle down right now," Morgan says, pacing the room. Everyone else has broken for lunch, or at least retreated to their own separate corners to process.

"You were there when we came up with the profile. You know that this is the best way to draw Doyle out of hiding, while risking that least innocent civilians," Hotch responds. "He knows Emily isn't dead and he knows she considers the team her family. You know what he does to families."

Morgan sighs. "I know."

This hadn't been the plan at all. In fact, this wasn't even Hotch's backup plan, but Stross'. The original plan, concocted in the back of an ambulance, had been to fake Prentiss' death, and use the time that would buy them to catch Doyle. Even injured and on the run, Doyle had figured out the plan, and sent threats to the entire team, as well as a carefully timed taunt proving he knew Prentiss was still alive to the hospital. They still don't even know how Doyle found out.

So, in a move that saved the FBI from more bad press and eased political tensions within the Bureau itself, Stross had sent her black sheep team into witness protection. After which, Ian Doyle had set off bombs in each and every one of their living spaces. Twelve people died.

"I don't want to be here any more than you do," Hotch says, the full weight the past in his voice.

"I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean..." Morgan trails off.

***

It takes a while, but eventually everyone has new ID and the other assorted paperwork to go with their new names. The sun is sinking below the horizon, and both the little boys are asleep.

"Well, this is going to be a train wreck," Mary says, leaning back in her chair.

"You wouldn't enjoy it if it wasn't," Marshall replies. Mary just scowls, but Marshall ignores her. "At least they're all trained and they understand what kind of damage breaking the rules could lead to."

"Half of them can't walk down the street without screaming cop, and the other half should be locked up in an ivory tower, far, far away from the rest of humanity," Mary growls.

"You just don't like that Spencer appreciated my trivia."

"If by appreciate, you mean, 'knows even more trivia than Marshal does and doesn't know when to stop, either,' well then, you might be right," Mary replies. "You're coming with me to deliver dinner, right?"

***

Mary talks Marshal into ribs. Everyone likes ribs, right?

Their new FBI charges are still at the safe house, tomorrow's goal is to find a place for them to live, which will be a challenge in its own right. Tonight is about seeing these people and their protectors fed and soothing any fears that need to be soothed. Not that the DoJ is really all that worried about testimony in this particular case. Getting Ian Doyle off the streets would be a plus, but no one believes that putting him away will make it safe for these people to go back to DC and their old lives.

"Food's here!" Mary announces once they are safely past the marshals on duty. 

"Thank you," Aaron says, and then watches as his people disperse ribs and fixings on to plates.

The adults set out plates, and dish out ribs, when the older boy tugs on her sleeve.

"Yeah kid?" Mary says.

"Are you going to die, too?" Jack asks her.

"What? No," Mary replies.

"Last time, the Marshall protecting us died," Jack says. "My mommy, too."

***

Mary gets them all installed in an apartment building on the north side of town. It took some doing to find a place to move them all into without raising suspicions, but she's Mary and she can work magic when she needs to.

It's new, and her FBI charges are some of the first people to move in, so she gets them a consecutive row of apartments. She still thinks it would be safer to spread them across town, or better yet, the country, but she gets the fear of being picked off one by one, and she doesn't have a lot of choice in the matter anyway. She's not sure which of them had the pull to pull this all off, but whoever it is

Move in day is sort of a circus. There are delivery truck with beds and dressers and tvs, and people milling around with duffle bags.

Derek has Henry up on his shoulders, and they are inspecting the trucks to Henry's great glee.

***

Reid snuggles down between Prentiss and Morgan and neither of them move. It's perhaps unorthodox, but after a month of a shared safe house, none of them can sleep alone.

A week ago, Rossi had woken up on Hotch's couch and said, "Screw this," and had grabbed Morgan, and three hours later, there were two king sized beds squeezed in to the master bedroom of Hotch's apartment. Now, the only people who don't regularly sleep there are Will, who has seemingly given up on sleep, and Jack and Henry who are sharing the bedroom next door. Everyone still has an room in an apartment somewhere, but more and more no one bothers going home.


End file.
